THE ROYAL FAMILIES OF ENGLAND

Richard the Third

RICHARD had now reached the summit of his ambition, but though he has been singled out by the pen, both of history and romance, as one of the blackest usurpers that ever disgraced a throne, it would be difficult to show how he was worse than many of his predecessors. The preparations already made for the nephew’s coronation assisted in quickening the same ceremony for the uncle. It was not quite a fortnight from his acceptance of the petition at Baynard castle, that he was crowned at Westminster, with his consort Anne, the daughter of the late Warwick, who had fallen in the battle of Barnet. The ceremony was performed with every adjunct that could give it splendour, few of the peers or the peeresses being absent; and it seemed as if at length the wars of the white and red rose were ended; for while Buckingham bore the king’s train, the countess of Richmond bore the queen’s, both of whom were descendants of John of Ghent, and the heads of the house of Lancaster.

We have before seen that it was the new king’s policy to affect an extreme desire to promote morals among his people. When the lords were about to separate, he called them into his presence, strictly admonishing them to preserve the peace in their respective counties, and lend their best aid to his officers in the punishment of all offences against the law. A few days afterwards he himself followed them, avowedly for the same purpose, stopping at Oxford, Woodstock, Gloucester, Worcester, and all the great towns, where he received petitions, dispensed favours, and administered justice. The queen, with the Spanish ambassadors and many of the nobles, joined him at Warwick, and after a week’s residence in that city, the court travelled through Coventry, Leicester, Nottingham, and Pontefract, to York. It was here, if any where, that Richard had a stronghold upon the affections of his subjects, and so anxious was he for this being made apparent to the people of the south, in whom he less trusted, that hints were given to his northern friends, to show their attachment by every outward demonstration. The gentlemen of the neighbourhood were commanded to attend and do him homage, and to gratify this favourite portion of his realm, he and his consort were here crowned a second time.

So long as the king remained in the capital, his presence sufficed to silence complaint; but no sooner was that check removed, than men began to communicate their thoughts to each other, borrowing fresh hatred to the king from pity for the young prisoners in the Tower. By some it was proposed to attempt their liberation; others were for adopting a measure that was certainly less liable to danger; they proposed conveying at least one, if not all, of the royal sisters to some place of refuge on the continent, so that there would always be some of the lineal inheritors of the crown to claim it when occasion offered; that such a time would come at some day or another, no one could doubt who recollected the unceasing changes of the preceding hundred years. But Richard had foreseen these perils. To guard against the first of their plans, he had already caused the murder of his nephews, though none had the least suspicion of what had happened. To anticipate the second evil, he had ordered John Nesfield to surround the sanctuary of Westminster with a body of armed men, and to allow neither ingress nor egress to any person. On their side the friends of the young princes pursued their plans with equal secrecy and vigour. Meetings were privately held in Kent, Essex, Sussex, Berkshire, Hants, Wilts, and Devonshire, the result of which was a determination to take up arms against Richard. Strange to say, they found an ally in the duke of Buckingham, though it is difficult to guess what could, in the course of a few weeks only, have changed him from a warm friend to a bitter enemy of the usurper. Richard had rewarded his services with a liberal hand. Some have imagined that he was won over by the eloquence of his prisoner Morton; others have suggested that Buckingham, as the cruel and suspicious character of his master unfolded itself, began to tremble for his own safety; this he might reasonably do, as being the head to whom the Lancastrians looked up for protection. Whether he was influenced by these or any other reasons, Buckingham, who had married the sister of Elizabeth, now agreed to aid in restoring the crown to the young Edward. He was to place himself at the head of the party, and circulars to this effect were despatched to the principal confederates; but now came the tidings of the young prince’s death; Richard, who had hitherto kept this event so profound a secret, suffered it to transpire the moment he heard of an intention to attempt their liberation, as by so doing he hoped to disconcert the plans of the conspirators.

The time and manner in which Edward with his young brother perished, have always been a matter of much question. The account most generally received is that collected from the confession of the murderers in the next reign. It may be briefly summed up as follows :—Soon after Richard’s departure from the capital, he endeavoured to persuade Brakenbury, the governor of the Tower, to rid him of the young princes. Brakenbury refused, and Richard then sounded sir James Tyrrel, and in him found a ready agent. This man, therefore, he despatched from Warwick, with orders that he should receive the keys and the command of the fortress for twenty-four hours. Brakenbury, however unwilling to do the deed himself, seems to have had no scruple in obeying these commands, and in the night Tyrrel, accompanied by Forest, a known assassin, and Dighton one of his grooms, stole up to the chamber where the princes lay asleep. Tyrrel, according to this account, watched at the door, while the two appointed murderers went into the chamber. When the deed was accomplished by smothering the young victims in their bed-clothes, they called in Tyrrel that he might be satisfied of the fact, and by his orders then interred the bodies at the foot of the staircase. In the morning the keys were given back to Brakenbury, and Tyrrel returned to his employer.

The intelligence that the princes had been put to death—for no one doubted of their having been murdered in some way— spread a general feeling of horror. Even the friends of Richard were confounded. As for the conspirators, they had gone too far to recede. Some new competitor for the throne must be found while the people were still in a ferment. The bishop of Ely suggested the offering of the crown to Henry, the young earl of Richmond, who in right of his mother represented the house of Lancaster; at the: same time the prelate advised that it should be on condition of his marrying the princess Elizabeth, upon whom had now devolved the claims of the house of York. This proposal met with the ready concurrence both of Yorkists and Lancastrians; the countess of Richmond consented in the name of her son, to whom a messenger was instantly despatched at Bretagne, with information of the agreement.

Vigilant as the king was on all occasions, this plan with all its numerous ramifications, escaped his knowledge. In utter ignorance of so near as well as great a peril, he proceeded from York to Lincolnshire; but in about a fortnight Henry’s answer arrived, and Richard then for the first time learnt the blow that was meditated. No sooner was he aware of his danger, than he called up his best energies to confront it, Summoning his friends to meet him at Leicester with their retainers, proclaiming Buckingham a traitor, and commanding the great seal to be brought from London. Nothing daunted by the knowledge that their powerful adversary was now upon his guard, the confederates rose in arms on the very day they had assigned for the outbreak. The marquess of Dorset proclaimed Henry at Exeter; the bishop of Salisbury declared for him in Wiltshire; the gentlemen of Kent did the same at Maidstone; those of Berkshire, at Newberry; and the duke of Buckingham summoned the Welshmen to his standard at Brecknock.

It was five days later that the king joined his army, which by that time had assembled at Leicester. He too, like his adversaries, sought to gain the popular opinion, and issued a proclamation, wherein lie set forth his own zeal for justice and morality, and contrasted it with the conduct of those opposed to him. What might have been the result, had Henry landed, or the duke been able to join his confederates, is very doubtful; but fortune saved Richard from this hazard. Though Henry left St. Malo with a fleet of thirty sail, yet so stormy was the weather that few could follow him across the channel, and by the time he reached the Devonshire coast, he found it useless to land with such diminished forces. The fate of Buckingham was even more disastrous. Leaving Brecknock, he had taken his way through the forest of Dene to the Severn, but found his march interrupted by obstacles upon which he had never calculated. His Welsh followers took the alarm and disbanded upon his turning aside to Webly, the seat of lord Ferrers, and their example was quickly imitated by other bodies of insurgents. Thus abandoned by his troops, he was fain to disguise himself and seek a refuge in the hut of Banister, one of his servants in Shropshire, where he was discovered by the enemy; but it is uncertain whether this resulted from his host’s treachery, or the imprudence of those friends to whom the secret of his retreat was confided. The merit of his past services availed nothing for him with Richard. He refused to admit the prisoner into his presence when brought to Salisbury, where he now was with his army, and gave orders for his being instantly beheaded in the market-place. Morton was more fortunate; he too had disguised himself, and escaped to the isle of Ely, whence he passed over to the Flemish coast. From Salisbury the king led his forces into Devonshire. At his advance the insurgents dispersed without attempting to strike a blow. The marquess of Dorset, and Courtney bishop of Exeter, were fortunate enough to get over in safety to Bretagne; others found a refuge from the royal vengeance either in the respect paid to the sanctuary, or in the fidelity of their friends and neighbours.

The king marched without the shadow of opposition through the southern counties, and whatever enemy fell into his hands was sure to be put to death. Upon his return to London he summoned a parliament, which confirmed by its sanction the petition addressed to him when protector, and declared his twofold right, by election as well as inheritance, to the crown, which they entailed on the issue of his body. All this, however, would have been incomplete without a bill of attainder, and they did not fail to pass one severe and comprehensive beyond any former example. The countess of Richmond was among the number of the attainted; she had played too important a part in the recent affair to be forgotten; but her life was spared at the intercession of lord Stanley, who had by some means won the favour of Richard, and even persuaded him into allowing her the possession of her estates during his life; in return for this extraordinary act of mercy, the husband bound himself to watch over the future conduct of his wife.

The marriage of Edward IV. to Elizabeth Gray had now been pronounced null by the approval of the petition presented at Baynard castle; their son was officially designated as “Edward, the bastard, lately called Edward the Fifth ;“ his mother was simply styled Elizabeth, late wife of sir John Gray, and the letters patent entitling her to dower as queen of England were annulled. But though the king could thus, so far as words and parchment went, repudiate the claims of his brother’s family, he knew full well that they still lingered in the hearts of many of his people, and the idea of a marriage between Richmond and the young Elizabeth, filled him with serious alarm. At the last Christmas festival a meeting had been held in Bretagne, at which Henry pledged himself by oath, to make her his queen, as soon as he should be able to put down the usurper; upon that condition, the exiles, who were not less in number than five hundred, had done him homage. Of himself, indeed, Henry could pretend no claim to the crown, being descended, on the father’s side, from Owen Tudor and Catharine, the relict of Henry V.; on the mother’s, from John Beaufort, earl of Somerset, a natural son of John of Ghent, by Catharine Swynford. It is true, that Somerset had been legitimated, but the very act, which conferred the favour, had also in express terms, made him and his posterity incapable of succeeding to the throne, and if the act were valid in one part, it must be not less so in the other. But by a rare chance it so happened that those who had better claims had no wish for a throne that must be fought for, and when gained, must be maintained by the strong hand. On the side of the Yorkists, where the party divided in itself was not attached to Richard, all objection was done away with by the projected marriage with Elizabeth, whom they considered as their sovereign now that they were assured the young princes had perished in the Tower.

Fully aware of the danger to be apprehended from this quarter, Richard, by threats and persuasions, endeavoured to draw the late queen out of her sanctuary. After much interchange of messages, they came to an agreement, in virtue of which the mother was to receive a yearly allowance of seven hundred marks for life, and her daughters were each to have two hundred marks for a marriage portion. In a situation so forlorn as that of Elizabeth, she could scarcely do otherwise than repair to court in reliance upon these promises, and the kindness of her reception went far to allay any lingering suspicions. Her daughter, the young Elizabeth, had more particularly good reason to be satisfied with the king, who was lavish in his attentions, having in all probability designed to marry her to his son Edward. The death of the young prince at Middleham, put an end to this project. He was not, however, the less anxious to keep possession of his prize, whatever his ultimate intentions might be, and retained her about the person of the queen.

The attention of the king was now recalled to Bretagne, where his enemies were, with unwearied zeal, devising means for an early struggle with him for the throne. His spies had done him good service; even Landois, the Breton minister, had been bought by his gold, and no measure was taken by Henry or the exiles, of which he had not immediate notice. This useful agent, who was the favourite of duke Francis, contrived by his persuasions to win over his master to the cause of Richard; a truce being concluded between the two countries, it soon led to a frequent, as well as friendly intercourse, which had for its result, the formation of a plot to surprize Henry and his friends in the midst of their warlike preparations. Fortunately for them, Morton discovered, and gave them timely Warning of the scheme, when they sought a safer asylum in France, then under the rule of Charles VIII. In that country a year was spent before they had completed all the necessary measures for the projected invasion.

The breathing time thus allowed Richard was wisely employed by him in effecting a better intelligence with Scotland. The commerce of Scotland suffered so severely from the English cruisers, that James found it advisable to solicit and conclude an armistice for three years, which was rendered yet more binding by a marriage alliance between Anne de la Pole, and the eldest son of the Scottish monarch. Christmas had now come, and the king held his court at Westminster with more than usual magnificence. Balls, feastings, and all sorts of amusements, filled up the holidays. An event connected with them occasioned much surprize at the time. It was observed that the king’s niece, Elizabeth, wore on all occasions robes similar to those of her royal mistress; but the riddle was explained, when, upon the death of the latter, Richard offered his hand to his niece. It does not, however, appear that the mother objected to this union, and if we may believe the chroniclers of those times, she wrote to her son, the marquess of Dorset, at Paris, desiring him to withdraw from the councils of Henry.

The king found a determined opposition to this scheme in a quarter where, perhaps, he least expected it. On consulting his two most trusty advisers, Ratcliffe and Catesby, they objected strenuously to the proposed union. They observed that this marriage would, from the near relationship of the parties, shock both the people and the clergy; that it was already suspected by many he had poisoned the queen to make room for his niece, and by marrying her he would convert these suspicions into a positive belief. The consequence would be the alienation of his firmest friends, the men of the north, who supported him chiefly from regard to his deceased consort as being the daughter of the great earl of Warwick. Richard was alarmed by these arguments into the abandonment of his plan, though he gave way with much reluctance.

The time was fast approaching when the grand struggle was to be made for the crown. Without believing the visionary terrors imputed to the king by sir Thomas More, it may yet well be that he felt doubtful when he looked at his want of means, and saw that he could place no reliance upon his adherents. Every day supplied a fresh instance of defection, and often where he had most confided. He was rendered yet more anxious by his doubts of lord Stanley, whose influence in Cheshire and Lancashire would make him a perilous addition to the enemy, should he choose to revolt. Hitherto he bad been zealous in the cause of Richard, but then he had married the mother of the pretender to the crown, a lady who had once already braved his displeasure in the hostile cause, and must naturally be supposed to exercise some influence over the mind of her husband. To lessen this influence as much as possible, and attach him to the royal cause, Richard had loaded him with favours, but at the same time had carefully kept him under his own eye by making him steward of the household. It was therefore, with reluctance that he listened to his prayer for permission to visit his estates; Stanley pleaded his former services, and unable to refuse the claim, the king retained lord Strange at court as a hostage for the fidelity of his father.

From his emissaries abroad Richard now learnt that the earl of Richmond was ready to take the field. With the consent of Charles, that nobleman had collected an army of three thousand men, the greater part of whom were Normans, and had assembled a fleet in the mouth of the Seine for their transport to England. Richard affected, and perhaps really felt, a pleasure at this intelligence; he had so long been harassed by the expectation of the thing, that its actual presence might be a relief, as with all his faults be had a bold spirit that never wavered in the moment of peril. To prepare the mind of the nation for the coming tempest, he issued a proclamation, but at the same time he did not forget any of those more active measures so urgently demanded by the occasion. His friends in the maritime counties received the necessary directions from him for the defence of those parts, while cavalry posts were established on the high roads for the more ready transmission of intelligence. His head quarters he fixed at Nottingham.

It was the first of August, when Henry left Harileur for the shore of Wales; on the seventh he landed at Milford Haven, from which place he marched through the northern parts of that country where the Stanley interest was predominant. He did not, however, meet with the encouragement he had expected from the inhabitants, fear or indifference retaining them in a passive state. No opposition was offered to his progress by the Welsh chieftains, neither did many of them join his standard, so that on his reaching Shrewsbury, his whole force scarcely amounted to four thousand, a small, and apparently inadequate, array to cope with the preparations of Richard. Active, however, as that prince was, the landing had taken place a week before he heard of it; but no sooner did he receive the intelligence than he sent out peremptory summons for all his subjects to join him at Leicester. By some of his adherents these mandates were promptly obeyed. The most important partizan was still wanting; lord Stanley replied to the summons that he was laid up by the sweating sickness, and his son, lord Strange, endeavoured to escape. In this attempt he failed, and upon being questioned, was induced to confess that he had engaged to join the invaders, but he maintained that his father had no knowledge of their plans. Richard made a last effort to bring over his reluctant subject to his cause; he ordered lord Strange to write to him that his son’s life would be forfeited unless he joined the royal banners without any more delay.

The king, who was still at Leicester, found himself at the head of an army so numerous, that he might reasonably look to crush the feeble array of his competitor. But disaffection was in the ranks. The boldness of Henry in marching forward with so little apparent support, plainly showed his reliance upon secret promises, and that he had adherents who only waited the proper moment for coming forward. At Shrewsbury he crossed the Severn; at Newport he was joined by the tenantry of the Talbots; at Stafford he held a private conference with lord Stanley, when it was agreed, as the only chance of saving his son’s life, that the Stanleys should still wear the semblance of hostility to the invader.

On the twenty-first of August, Richard rode out from Leicester with the crown upon his head, and posted himself in the fields about two miles from Bosworth. Henry bad also advanced in the night from Tamworth to Atherston. Here he was joined by the Stanleys, and by numerous deserters from his rival, though his array was still less by one half than that of Richard. In the morning both armies advanced to Redmore, and the van-guards, severally commanded by the duke of Norfolk and the earl of Oxford, came into collision. From the first Richard saw that the battle was lost to him. If the day could be retrieved, it must be by a desperate effort, and happening to espy Henry, he spurred on his horse, shouting “treason! treason !“ and for a moment carried all before him. With his own hand he killed sir William Brandon, his rival’s standard-bearer, beat sir John Cheney to the ground, and dealt a furious blow at Henry, but being overwhelmed by numbers, he was thrown from his horse and slain. No sooner had he fallen, than lord Stanley took up the crown, and placed it on the earl of Hereford’s head, when the fortunate victor was greeted with cries of “Long live king Henry !“ On the opposite side about three thousand perished, amongst whom were the duke of Norfolk, lord Ferrers, and many knights. The body of the late king was stript, and being laid across a horse behind a pursuivant at arms, was carried back to Leicester, Henry preceding the dead Richard in the same state the living man had quitted the city on the day preceding. Here after it had been publicly exposed for two days, the corpse was hurried to the grave with little respect in the church of the Grey friars. With the exception of this petty insult to his departed foe, which, perhaps, policy rendered necessary, there was nothing with which to reproach the new ruler in the hour of his triumph. So far from his indulging in that wholesale slaughter which we have generally seen common on such occasions, he inflicted the last penalty of the law on three offenders only; these were the notorious Catesby, and two men of the name of Brecher, who, it may be inferred, did not suffer without good reason, though the nature of their offences has not survived them.

The character of Richard has been a matter of some dispute; the general belief has stampt him for an usurper of the most atrocious kind; bad enough he certainly was, but from any thing that has come down to us it would be difficult to prove he was worse than many of his predecessors.

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